


the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin

by heatsoaked



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Age Reversal, Alternate Universe, Football | Soccer, M/M, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatsoaked/pseuds/heatsoaked
Summary: club rivalries really do bring out the worst in people.
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin

changmin can still hear the deafening noise from the stadium when he catches up with yunho, who's just sidling out of the mess of cables, and cameras that is the press pool. he stripped off his jersey somewhere between the pitch and here, leaving him in a tight white undershirt. 

and he seems to be glowing from the inside out, lighting up the awkwardly lit hallway like he's swallowed a fucking lightbulb.

it's not exactly a secret as to _why_. the exhilaration of a _4:2_ win over tottenham's arch-rivals is written all over his face; the bright, 22-years-young centre-forward worth over £25 million, narrowly beating changmin as the most expensive asian football player to come into the premier league. his entire existence makes changmin's skin itch and his blood boil with something he'd rather not examine too closely. 

he still struggles to connect the boy he knew at sixteen – eager, tripping over himself to impress and to please – to this unstoppable comet. yunho is still eager, but he doesn't trip; he barely makes it look like he tries when he makes half a stadium roar in approval. 

but changmin knows how hard he tries, even now, inches away from his first title. 

_glory_, changmin thinks as he reaches out to grab yunho's wrist, _would suit him well_. but changmin is selfish, a tad resentful and full of an illogical possessiveness of the young centre-forward that he's carried with him for longer than he'd like to admit. 

"what are you—_hey_—" 

changmin knows the layout of this stadium – his team's home, which is why this defeat stings more than any other could. he knows the corridors and side rooms, the broom cupboards and the empty locker rooms. he knows and yunho doesn't, which means he's ahead. 

he bares his teeth in a smile when the look of shock on yunho's face melts away into something slightly more akin to fear. it's softer around the edges though, mixed with recognition and what changmin would like to think is anticipation. 

it's the ego boost he needed to clamp a hand over yunho's mouth, shoulder open a nearby door and drag him inside.

then he pushes yunho away and the abrupt movement makes him stumble, uncharacteristically graceless in comparison to what he usually presents when he's out on the pitch. 

they've done this dance before – different years, different clubs, different stadiums, different circumstances but always the same in one way or another. there's always something about changmin's expression and the tense line of his shoulders that makes yunho back away until their surroundings won't let him. yunho's eyes are always opened wide, pupils blown and black. 

the metal lockers clang and clatter loudly when yunho's back hits them and changmin crowds him in, using the inch or two he has on him to partially shield yunho from the unlocked door on the other side of the room.

this is for him and no one else. 

anger curls hot and leaden in his stomach. "hey, golden boy," he rasps, a sharp mockery of title _the guardian_ had gifted yunho. 

yunho opens his mouth to speak, but changmin won't let him, won't even give him the chance to explain or defend himself. with enough force to make the lockers rattle he presses a hard, unforgiving kiss to yunho's mouth. changmin's teeth dig into yunho's plump bottom lip as his hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth, blue polyester mesh of changmin's shirt. 

but changmin is _nice_ – everyone says so; his teammates, his family, his friends, the newspapers and the fans. he's fun and easygoing, grounded in a way that many who have reached similar levels of success as he has, simply can't maintain.

changmin is nice unless he's not and when he's not then he's harsh and everything shim changmin is not supposed to be. a cruel streak bleeds through in the marks he bites and sucks onto the sunkissed skin of yunho's throat. anger makes him cruel and no one knows this better than jung yunho. 

it's not that he minds playing second fiddle. he'll play more assists than score goals if that's what is needed of him, he'll accept his place on the bench and cheer louder than anyone else. he doesn't crave glory as much as he craves simply being _out there_. he and yunho share the unique position of being the only high profile south korean football players in the premier league and on some level – a level that isn't saturated with misplaced resentment and something far more ugly and possessive – he's happy for yunho's success. 

but yunho is threatening to reach heights that changmin can't follow to and just the idea of yunho – the boy who commuted all the way to seoul and watched changmin play with wide-eyed adoration and awe – out of his reach and untouchable, makes changmin's skin crawl.

after a few minutes of this he pulls away to admire the angry purple and red blotches now decorating yunho's throat.

yunho stares back at him, eyes glassy and his bottom lip red and swollen from where changmin had bitten down just a little too hard. he's gone completely still, hands still fisted into the slippery material of changmin's shirt and he's looking at changmin with a look much like a rabbit watching a wolf approach. 

it makes changmin's cock twitch as the ugly thing deep in his chest purrs in appreciation. 

he smiles and there's nothing nice about it. "play nice," he murmurs and yunho shudders, his chest rising and falling, and then after a second's hesitation, he nods. 

it's all changmin needs to set to work again, capturing yunho's mouth in a bruising kiss and slotting a thigh between his legs. he grins into the kiss, nipping at yunho's bottom lip until he can taste copper on his tongue. the mixture of pain and friction makes yunho twist and squirm against him, whimpering loudly enough to prompt changmin to grit out: 

"play nice and be _quiet_."

he can feel the hard line of yunho's cock against his thigh and gives in just a little bit more, grinding leisurely and making yunho keen and shake. "they're still out there, you know," changmin says, "so be quiet. or do you want them to see you like this, huh?" 

yunho shakes his head, desperately trying to stifle the noises still spilling from his parted lips. 

"their golden boy," changmin snarls, pulling one hand away from where he'd been pinning yunho in place to wrap it around his throat, "getting off on something like this." 

again, yunho shakes his head. "no, no," he forces out, "h-hyung—_please_." 

gasping, with wet hot tears now leaking out of the corners of his eyes, yunho ruts gracelessly against the thigh changmin has pressed between his legs and changmin watches completely enthralled like he is every time, mentally counting down from ten before letting go and growling, satisfied, when yunho goes rigid mouth falling open in a silent, shocked cry as he comes. 

he's not entirely sure what he gets out of this except the firm, unshakeable knowledge that however high yunho might fly, how far out of reach he may seem, he will always be close enough for this. always _his_, it's just a matter of making him remember.

"_mine_," he grunts, finally allowing himself to let go. 

yunho whimpers and struggles in changmin's grip, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

but changmin is selfish and he wants yunho and so he _takes_.

see, changmin rarely asks for anything; he takes what he's given and makes the best of it. that's how his life works. so it's only _fair_, he thinks as he bites another set of bruises onto yunho's sweat-slick skin, that he takes this one thing – the _one_ thing life will not give him freely. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in, like, three hours. Please forgive me.


End file.
